Page 71 of Turn Me On
My entire body is strung tight as I wait for his answer. One more chance to see him. One more moment to be in his company. I am on edge, waiting, hoping.
Maddox is quiet, his smile disappearing slowly till it’s just gone.
Shit. Did I push him too much? I hold up a hand. “Just as agent and client. That’s all. I didn’t mean to pressure you,” I say, backpedaling.
His gaze holds mine, his eyes resolute. “I’ve never felt pressure. And I’d take any of my clients out to celebrate. So let’s do it, Zane.”
A few weeks ago, I might have bristled at the super agent attitude. But I see through him today.Any of my clientsis a safe cover-up for the truth. He’s stealing a chance to spend time with me too.
Even if it’s just drinks.
I can’t wait for the game to end.
18
SEXY ERGO
Zane
With two cocktails in hand, I weave through the crowded speakeasy in Chelsea, past throngs of twenty-somethings out for a night in the city. A guy in a goatee, lounging on a blue velvet couch, tips his chin my way. “Dragons suck,” he mutters.
“Thanks, man,” I say. Nothing can bring me down tonight. We destroyed the Comets in a ten to three rout. Three of those runs were batted in by me.Off Cohen. I already sent my brother athank you very muchnote.
“Comets rule,” the fan adds, louder this time.
“Not tonight they didn’t,” I toss out over my shoulder, then make my way to a dark nook in the back, a corner spot away from the crowds. I rejoin Maddox for our second round of drinks. I hold up the bright red concoctions, complete with silly umbrellas. “For the man of the hour. Wait. That’s wrong. The man of the night.”
He grins, and that’s my invitation to keep going.
“The man of the week? The month? The man of the year.”
Rolling his eyes, he pats the couch. “I’m just doing my job. Sit down.”
Sternly, I stare at him. “No.”
“No, you won’t sit?”
“No, you do not get to downplay what you pulled off,” I say.
“Zane, I’m not going to pat myself on the back,” he says, then tips his forehead to the couch cushion. “C’mon.”
I puff out my chest. “That’s whyI’mgoing to pat you on the back. You deserve it,” I say. That’s what tonight is for—the chance for me to show him I respect and appreciate him. We can pull this off, snapping right back into place as agent and client. That’s all I can have of him, but it’ll have to be enough.
Sitting next to him, I catch a whiff of his fading ocean scent, then do my best to ignore its effect on me.
I hand him a frozen strawberry daiquiri.
“Can’t believe you really like daiquiris,” he says, amused, as he takes the glass.
“I’m man enough to like a scotch and a daiquiri.”
“I wasn’t doubting your manhood.”
“Good. You better not,” I say, then I tip my glass to his, clinking. “To you.” I knock back some of my drink and…my brain freezes. “Holy shit, that’s cold.”
“Press your tongue against the roof of your mouth,” he says with his brand of calm savviness.
“Pressyourtongue against the roof of my mouth,” I suggest, since I’m helpful like that.